ASAC Hank Shraeder and the Martian Invaders
Chapter I: Invasion!
The small rural town of Albuquerque, New Mexico may not have seemed like much to any old Joe strolling through the city walls. Nothing remarkable stood out, no famous celebrities, films, scientific discoveries, nothing. Well, save for one man in particular.
"Hahaha how about a TOAST! To my brother in law WALT!" ASAC Hank Shraeder lifted his pint filled to the brim with moonshine to the crowded White residence living room for Walter White's 50th birthday celebration. The people cheered and hollered, but not at Walt. All eyes were fixed on ASAC Hank Shraeder, eager to see more of his divine glory.
"Ya know, when I first met Walt, I was like 'whoa!'" Hank gestured enthusiastically with his meaty arms, "This guy is a faggot!" he slapped Walt's back with the force of a small atomic bomb, sending shards of glass in all directions. Pieces wedged themselves into ASAC Shraeder's own wife Marie, while his crippled Nephew Walt. Jr (or, as Hank like to called him, ASAC Hank Shraeder Jr) struggled to tease out glass from his already useless legs. No One cared, however. All let out a joyous laugh of surprise and begged Hank to continue his story.
"Alright alright, as I was saying... I met Walt and all I could think about was how, uh, pardon my french...HOMO he was!" The onlookers burst into unrestrained hysterical laughter at Hank's clever joke. Hank himself couldn't help but grin as he raised his hand to gently silence audience who were nearly in tears of frightening devotion.
"Please, please… all I'm saying is if you ever want a, let's say, male entrepreneur to give you a stress relieving lil suckie, " he gave an exaggerated gesture at Walt, "then this is your guy!" Walt looked up at Hank with hate filled tears in his beady eyes.
"Thank you, Ha-"
"Ah a a, what's daddy's name?" asked Hank with a soft little chuckle. Walt glared at him even more intensely but, catching the look of warning from his wife Skyler not to disobey such a direct command, Walt replied "Thank you, ASAC Hank Shraeder."
Hank deemed his grace with an approving nod, downing his third pint of moonshine in a single gulp.
The party was just getting started, with Hank of course leading the wet and hard crowd in a game of nude twister when there was a rumble. Rumble! Rumble! Rumble! The crowd looked up suddenly, unsure of what it could have been. Hank was the first to recover, chuckling and looking over the participants.
"Haha, geez, didn't know I ate that much!" Despite the tangible tension filling the air, everyone burst back into thunderous laughter and applause. They sobered quickly, however, when there was a second rumble, this time much closer than the last. RUMBLE! RUMBLE! RUMBLE! The partygoers were starting to get worried. Suddenly, ASAC Hank Shraeder Jr. looked up at the window and let out a gasp.
"U-U-U-Uncle Hank! L-L-Look!" ASAC Hank Shraeder JR pointed to the living room window. Hank hurried over in a flash, not even pausing to help ASAC Hank Schraeder Jr. get his pants back on. Hank looked skyward and felt his blood boil. A giant spaceship of some kind, black in colour, with purple, pulsing light points hovered near one of the many distant mountains lining the Albuquerque area.
"Mother of God...they're back." Hank turned to the crowd who were now staring at him, waiting for his next move. ASAC Hank Shraeder Jr. fell over from struggling to fasten his jeans through his legs. "Wh-wh-what are we g-g-gonna do, U-U-U-Uncle Hank?" Everyone else looked at Hank expectedly. Hank turned back towards the mirror, throwing on a pair of aviators as he did so.
"Get the President on the line."
Chapter 2: The Team
"Uhh what are you uhh saying, Hanky?" asked Barack with a sorrowful complexion. Hank stood soldier formation in front of his country's leader within the oval office, and although Hank never had a strong liking for the African-American folk, he supposed he could make an exception for Mr. President himself.
"You see sir, I don't know if you received the news from your own special intelligence, but Earth and, more specifically, Albuquerque, New Mexico, is currently being illegally invaded by disease ridden alien scum. And Martian assailants are also descending upon Earth as we speak.
Barack nodded slowly, his penetrating glare piercing into Hank's very moral fibre. What Barack saw was pure, untainted, and unchallenged patriotism. his pants rose at the thought of Hank laying waste to those alien sons of bitches.
"Very well, Mr. Schraeder. I'm tasking you with taking out these Martian assailants. You will rendezvous at Chatham, Ontario, where you will receive further instructions."
Hank nodded slowly, letting the gravity of the mission to come fill him to the brim.
"If I may ask, sir, who else will be joining me on this
liberation?" Barack gave Hank a small smile, putting an arm around Hank's tank-like shoulders.
"Go on son...they're waiting for you."
Seven years later, after vigorous core training in land, sea, and air combat, Hank found himself pulling into a grease-ridden town called Chatham-Kent. He was told, by Mr. President himself, that he was to be in the Ursuline College Chatham theatre at approximately 2 am, where he would meet the rest of his team.
Pulling up in his dark green Jeep Cherokee, Hank hopped out of his vehicle and turned to regard the ancient and cultural building. He could tell at once that this institution was one of the highest that the world could offer.
Hank strolled up to the doors that were labelled 'Theatre'. He tried to pull it open, but it wouldn't budge one bit. Strong as Hank was, he remembered that this was Canada, where his powers were diminished from the lack of public patriotic support.
Just as Hank was considering this to all be a practical joke by Barack, the doors swung open on their own. Mystified, Hank strolled inside.
The entire theatre was empty and, as far as Hank could tell, pitch black. Hank began to move through the aisle towards the center stage, hoping to find further answers. Hank had barely made it halfway to the stage when a sudden illumination was cast upon a figure that Hank knew too well. He thought he had made it clear to Barack that he didn't want to be a part of this team.
"Well well well… ASAC Hank Shraeder," spoke Nick Fury with a drawl, walking out from stage left and fixing Hank with a curious gaze. "It has been quite a while, my friend".
"Fury." replied Hank. He didn't feel like getting into political matters with Fury right now. There was more important work to be done.
"I understand that the President has an important mission he'd like you to take part in." recounted Fury in a business-like tone. Hank rolled his eyes. Just what he needed. Another backwashed mission with people who didn't know the first thing about combat.
"Listen, Fury, I'd appreciate if we could wrap this up quick, we obviously have more pressing matters at the moment." Hank was in no mood for monkey-business.
"Certainly, certainly. I'm just here to introduce you to...The Team." Fury smiled widely at Hank and gave a whooping chuckle. "You can come on in, Jamie!"
A curious looking fellow strolled onto the stage. Wearing a tight leather jacket, some strange looking orange skinny jeans with an admittedly badass buckle of Bill Murray, and some aviator shades, Jamie Clarke waved a hand to Hank who looked dumbfounded.
"Hey, how's it going, I'm Jamie." Jamie held out a hand, one which Hank did not take. Hank looked at Fury with an expression that said all to clearly you've got to be kidding me.
"Jamie has nine black belts in kempo karate and an unmatched knowledge in all religions," Fury contemplated for a moment. "Well, I suppose Geen is certainly up there too…" Fury trailed off and pulled in a deep breath. "Now, for our second member…"
The man that followed after Jamie was, as far as Hank could tell, a complete and utter crack addict pedophile. He was twitching inconsistently and seemed to be intensely interested in images about the room that none but him could see.
"This," said Fury, "Is Steve 'Hydraulic' Buscemi. He initially refused our offer but, after some...persuasion…" Fury sent a covert glance of lust across at the newly arrived Steve, who returned it with multiple sexual hand gestures. "Steve has an incredible ability. Show em, Stevie."
Steve nodded in acknowledgement, grinning widely and promptly tearing off his khaki shorts, revealing a stringent, somewhat weak looking phallic device. Steve pulled his face into a beet-red concentration grimace. For a few seconds nothing happened. Then just as suddenly, the penis enlarged fifty-fold into a veiny, pulsing hammer of flesh and blood. Even Hank, who had seen his fair share of dick, could tell this was one not to be trifled with.
"Excellent Stevie, excellent," Approved Fury. Steve relinquished his hold over his man meat, shrinking it back down to the normal 1 inch, but made no attempt to redress himself into his shorts.
"And now that just leaves us with-"
"No need for an introduction, Director. I'm here." A voice boomed from the back of the theatre. Light pouring out from an opened door, the very same that Hank had walked through himself not 10 minutes ago, creating a startling silhouette. A man began a slow but meaningful stride down towards the crowd of four. Just as he reached the stage, Hank saw that he looked no more extraordinary than the average Joe.
"ASAC Schraeder," the man spoke, holding out a firm hand. "You can call me Charlie."
Chapter 3: Game-Plan
"Charlie, huh?" Hank sized up the newcomer with a critical eye, going over his many unremarkable features. Curly, tight-knit brown hair, dull brown eyes, fair skin. Though Hank admitted that this was certainly an average man, there was something undeniably extraordinary about him. A glow, faint, dim, but golden emulated around Charlie's head like a halo.
"That's correct, ASAC," replied Charlie with a small smile. I've read many of your stories and triumphs that you've taken part in throughout the years. The Texas abortion clinic massacre was by far my favourite." Charlie scrutinized Hank more closely, taking a step towards the mountain of justice. "I am honoured to serve alongside such a patriotic man such as yourself."
Hank gave a small nod to Charlie. Perhaps this wouldn't be such a bad mission after all.
"Alright folks," spoke Hank in a brisk tone, "let's meet backstage to discuss further tactics.
The fivesome made it to the drama room behind the stage. A small table had been set up with many colourful tarts and pastries adorning the left hand side while drinks of every fruit imaginable graced the right side.
"Compliments of Ursuline College's Principal," clarified Fury. "He seemed very concerned about us stopping this new threat. Make sure to give him your thanks…" Fury lifted a small pastry and took a carefully measured bite, savouring every particle. The rest of the group moved in with grumbles of appreciation, each choosing a treat and munching happily. Hank noticed that Steve held himself back, however.
"Hey - Jamie, is it?" asked Hank to the scruffy, somewhat greasy man in the leather jacket.
"That's right," confirmed Jamie with a small smile, "I've heard of your many heroics, even all the way up here in the north!"
Hank had to smile at that one. If his triumphs had reached this far, then that must be something to be proud of.
"What's the deal with skitzo over there?" Hank asked curiously, casting a glance over Jamie's right shoulder at the even more furiously twitching Jamie standing by the doorway who was gazing at the pastries with a lustful and painful expression.
Jamie looked over his own shoulder and turned away quickly. "Oh, we don't let Steve have any sorts of treats. He's on a strict diet, you see," he looked once around the room and added in a whisper, "but you didn't hear that from me." Jamie hurried back to the table to mow down on some more delicious treats.
Hank supposed it was time to get the show on the road. Clearing his throat loudly, he gained the attention of everyone almost immediately. They all quieted, and looked intently at Hank's muscular and imposing frame.
"So, I'm sure that Fury's already filled you in on the general reason as to why you're here, but let me explain the gaps," he flicked his nipple and a slideshow popped forth on the adjacent wall. "My country is currently under some sort of an invasion. These creatures that you see before you," another flick changed the view screen to a recently taken image of a Martian creature gangbanging Howie Mandel, "are, since one month ago, considered a national threat. After America, as my President believes, they will make their way north into Canada, and then East into Europe and Africa. Obviously," he flicked again, showing a slide of a world ablaze," we want to avoid this as much as possible, which is why Fury has assembled this team."
Hank snapped the lights back on and turned off the slideshow. Slowly, he faced the shocked visages of the onlookers.
"Any questions?"
Charlie stepped forward, determination blazing on his ordinary features. "Do we know any veritable intel on any leaders of this group?" He turned to everyone meaningfully, emphasizing his next words. "Cut off the head, and the serpent dies." Hank had to give it to this Charlie. The man was clearly a tactician, and a good one at that.
Hank was about to answer when a voice, for the second time today, sounded near the doorward.
"Yeah I FUCKING know who that fucker is!" The disheveled outline of UCC's very own Principal Ray Power staggered in the room, a half empty bottle of vodka held in a trembling hand.
"Power?" Fury stepped forward with care, "What do you mean by that, what's happened?" Powers looked woebegone, and nearly close to tears. Fury held him close to his breast, cooing him softly as Powers broke down in unrestrained tears. Slowly, Powers sobered, turning to look at each of the faces of the team in turn.
"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry for what I've done…" Powers relapsed back into fresh tears, burying his head deep within Fury's chest.
"What do you mean, Powers?" demanded Hank with a fiery presence in his voice. Powers turn to regard him dead in the eye, with as much meaning injected into his words as he whispered two syllables.
"The Jeep."
Chapter 4: Game-Plan Part II
Hank shook his head in confusion, eyes squinted
ferociously. Hank had spent decades interrogating every kind of scum of the Earth imaginable, and even he could not detect a trace of a lie in what Powers has just uttered. The question remained however: who was the Jeep?
"Dios mios!" let out Jamie in a slur of whispered French
vulgarities. He rubbed his chin scruff and raised his head to the ceiling, eyes closed in a pained manner. He slowly brought his head down and spoke directly at Hank.
"This monster, this...mon Dieu, this man...I once knew
this Jeep, before he was called the Jeep." Jamie exhaled
exaggeratedly and beckoned everyone closer. "I think it would be more prudent if we travelled somewhere farther from the invasion...we don't know how far their influence reaches just yet."
Hank had to agree with Jamie on that point. These
Martian fuckers could be crossing the border for all they knew.
"Aright team, new plan," began Hank, clapping his hands
once, "as Jamie has just pointed out, we remain in a vulnerable position whilst this close to the border. Obviously, we need a new meeting ground to enact our plans. Any suggestions?" For a moment no one spoke. All seemed too shocked by all this information flying at them at once. Then Hydraulic stepped forward, a daring glint in his crinkled eyes.
"Well, my mother, Neil, has a cottage home in North
Korea that I'm sure she'd be willing to lend us for a day or two," he smiled and continued, "plus, she's rather well, uh...acquainted, let's say, with the local leader."
Hank nodded, thinking hard. It had been years since
Hank had touched down in North Korea. Barack had used to send him on countless errands to the big K of Asia. However, Hank had never gotten to know the leader, Kim, all that well. He supposed it was worth a shot.
"I suppose that'll have to do," reasoned Hank, "What
about transportation? All I've got is my Cherokee, and we all know how well that works on water!" At the proclamation of these words everyone in the room urinated their pants from laughing so hard. When everyone had calmed down enough fifteen minutes later, Jamie raised his hand.
"Sir, I happen to have recently come into the
possession of a vintage American Airlines Flight 11 Jumbo Jet, which I'm sure would be adequate for transportation." Jamie declared proudly. Hank himself loved planes of all shapes and sizes, and couldn't wait to get on the road.
"What about a pilot," spoke Hank, "God knows what
happened last time I flew an aircraft!" The group just couldn't handle it anymore. One by one, every single person in the room shit their pants with such ferocity that the impact blasted through their pants and dented the hard-tiled floor. Frighteningly intense laughter rang throughout the room, with just as much tears being spilled as fecal matter. The drunk Ray Power began to have an aneurysm induced by alcohol and heat overload created from laughter, but no one noticed in their state of absolute joy.
Hank gave a small chuckle and ran to grab himself a
subway snack. Coming back an hour later, everyone finally began to calm down enough for Hank to give out the last instructions.
"Alright alright, so, plan is, in exactly forty five
minutes we all meet right here, bags packed, ready to go for the Chatham airport. Go on and pack your things." The members of the world's last hope filed out of the room. Hank supposed this plan would lead them somewhere. And God help those Martian bastards if it didn't.
Chapter 5: Unwelcome Ties
Hank pulled back into the Chatham parking lots precisely 45 minutes later, and not a second more. Hank had been brought up in a southern, rural, Christian household, and the first thing they teach in a southern, rural, Christian household is to not be late for church. Well. The playtimes with the local priest were done, and Hank's new church was his country. No way he's being late today.
The thick oaken doors of the theatre swung open, and birthed a truly incredibly sight.
Jamie Reginald Clarke stood in a proud soldier formation, a bandolier of exactly four knives swinging across his shoulder to his hip. He was wearing ceremonial kenpo karate robes, with his renowned 9th degree black belt tied proudly yet modestly about his waist.
To Jamie's right was Hydraulic Buscemi, who, in preparation for the mission, had chosen to bring his only fleshlight for the trip.
"In case my little guy gets backed up," explained Hydraulic to Hank brightly, "ya know, blue balls and such."
But the one Hank was truly looking forward to was Charlie, and in Hank's eyes, he didn't disappoint one bit. Charlie was wearing the exact same clothes as he was wearing an hour ago; dark coloured, slightly loose fitting jeans, an orange and white striped polo shirt, and checkered sneakers. However, since the time they had all taken to prepare, Charlie had adorned a confederate bandana around his curly haired head. This man, thought Hank in admiration. Where do these guys come from?
Satisfied with the results, Hank stood before everyone.
"So, uh, we all know what we're getting into, right?" Asked Hank in a serious tone. "We've had reports that these things have began using spore cummies to infest their victims with Martian embryos. Watch yourself out there."
Jamie was charged with bringing in the plane for takeoff, with the UCC parking lot acting as the makeshift runway. All boarded happily, sharing life stories of their childhood in a flurry of high emotions. When they were all safely strapped down tight within the plane, Hank gave the signal to Jamie in the cockpit, and off they went.
They soared high in the sky, all excited and nervous for what was to come. As Hank watched North America grow more and more distant behind them, Hank reflected on the group he had come to know so well. They may not be much, thought Hank, but they sure got heart. Within the plane, everyone was engaged in deep conversation.
"Me mother's a pharmacy stylist and me dad's a professional cook." explained Hydraulic, eating some fresh cake from the plane's food store.
"What about you, Charlie? Where're your parents from?" asked Hank.
Charlie took a few seconds to answer. He seemed to be choosing his words very carefully.
"Well, my mother she...she got into politics…" Charlie trailed off, his eyes moving towards the window beside him. Hank was mystified; why was Charlie so reluctant? Thinking that perhaps Charlie was ashamed of his parentage for some reason, Hank decided to play a more sensitive tack.
"Got a dad? Your dad alive at all?" Asked Hank, slapping Charlie's knee playfully.
Charlie winced as the impact of the words hit him head on. Even more slowly than the last, Charlie turned to Hank.
"My father...he's not one of us." Charlie let a simple tear flow down his face onto the musty floor of the plane cabin. Hank had no words. His rational told him that perhaps this meant that his father was some sort of illegal immigrant. And if he is, thought Hank, then good riddance if he's wiped off the Earth.
Hank, realizing that the conversation was done, began to doze off into a deep sleep. It was going to be a long flight, and if he wanted victory, he would need his strength.
Don't we all, thought Hank somberly.
Chapter 6: Lost and Gone
The rest of the flight, for Hank, passed in bleak silence. He didn't dare do anything that might disturb Charlie while he slept silently, a puckered thumb being suckled by his slightly drooling mouth. Hank couldn't put his meaty finger on this Charlie character. He was an intelligent man, that was for sure. Not a bad combattant as well. He could play the art of war just as well as anyone Hank knew. Maybe even better.
Hydraulic slept with his eyes frighteningly wide open, as still as death with no sound to be made from him. Up at the front of the aircraft, Jamie worked and fiddled with the controls like an expert, blasting Katey Perry into his bleeding ears.
A creaking sound awoke Hank from his deep slumber, causing him to scramble to tear off his American flag sleeping mask. But it was just Charlie. Charlie sat up, stretching wide and long, giving a great yawn to announce his awakening. He strode down the aisle to the bathroom, where Hank saw the light flick from 'red' to 'green'. Hamk watched for a minute before letting himself doze back into sleep.
Nearly fourteen hours later Hank awoke yet again, this time sensing something was off. He looked around the cabin, and immediately realized Charlie was missing. Hank's heart went straight from 65 to 300 BPM, spintailing into panic mode.
"Hydraulic, HYDRAULIC!" Hank screamed into Hydraulic's face. But Hydraulic was out cold. There was no waking this turkey from his slumber. Hank growled and attempted to move closer to the cockpit of the plane, but was held back by the pure soundwaves of Katy Perry's 'Hot n Cold' shredding Jamie's iPhone speaker.
"J-J-J-AAAAMM IIIEEEE!" Bellowed Hank, but it was no use. Over the simply brutal music pumping, Jamie couldn't hear a word.
Hank swore inwardly and decided to take matters into his own hands. He then noticed that the cabin bathroom was still lit red, which meant that the occupant must still be inside. Hank let tears of gratitude flow down his face as he made his way to the bathroom door, knocking clearly.
"Charlie, Charlie-Boy you in there?" No answer. Hank felt his heart skip a few beats before knocking even more loudly than before. Still no answer. Hank supposed there was only one way to go. "Alright Charlie, I'm coming in whether you like it or not!" Hank began to count down. "1…" Hank shook his tummy, getting his juices ready. "2…" Hank removed his pants from over his ass, holding his cheeks firmly against the bathroom door. "3!" Hank then let out the most vicious, patriotic fart in the history of mankind. The gas smelled like a freshly fired gun, and it had a distinctive red and blue tinge to it.
The door was flung open and immediately hit the adjacent wall at a numbing speed of 90 km/hr, crushing anything into a pulp that could have been on the other side. Hank strode in the room belly first, and what he saw chilled his adamantium bones. A letter, and Charlie's torn clothes. Hank picked up the letter with trembling hands and tears in his eyes, beginning to read.
To whoever finds this letter, a message I have for thee,
Your friend has done his dirties, and is now found safe with me,
He knows of his sin, and the crimes he has caused,
For stealing him from you will render much applause,
So tarry not, so called patriot, for this plan runs quite deep,
You will all remember the day you defied the master Jeep.
Chapter 7: A Little Help From My Friends
Hank punched the bathroom window is pent up frustration. Charlie was gone. Gone. This so called 'Jeep' had him at his mercy now. Hank had never felt so lost and devastated in his whole life. He curled into a ball inside the bath and began to weep, his tears filling nearly half of the bathtub. Some minutes later the door creaked open again. Hank snapped his head up to catch if the newcomer was perhaps Charlie, but alas; it was just Jamie coming to take a shit. Jamie gave a great sigh as he sat his rear onto the cold toilet seat, immersing himself in Francais Aujourd'hui, the local Québécois newspaper. A solid five minutes had passed before Jamie realized that he had company.
"Oh mon Dieu, Jésus et Marie, quest-ce que tu fais ici?!" demanded Jamie, eyes wide at his privacy being exposed so rashly. He sat up, a lone turd dripping like frozen molasses out of his bum.
"Jamie," began Hank, standing up, "The Jeep! He's taken Charlie. Jamie, you're the only one that knows about this Jeep. We need information more than ever!" Hank stepped out of the bathtub in a dignified manner, pleading all of his fibre to Jamie. Jamie himself stood resolute, apparently thinking hard about something. Finally, he came to a satisfying conclusion.
"I can certainly help...but I'm going to need something in return…" began Jamie tentatively, his eyes looking up and down Hank's muscle-pulsing body. Hank squinted his eyes suspiciously.
"And what might that be…?" he asked slowly and carefully. He still didn't have a good enough grasp on this Jamie character to judge if his intentions were benevolent or malevolent.
"Well, sir you must understand that my wife is a huge bitch and that, well, it's been nearly 40 years since I've gotten any real action," Jamie let loose in a burst; apparently he had been dying to say this for a long time. "And since we're here, now, in this enclosed space, I was wondering if you could perhaps help a guy out?" Jamie held up both of his thumbs and flashed Hank a large and toothy smile.
Hank's initial reaction was What? Sex? No Way! Gross! But then Hank thought about Charlie, and how much Hank realized he was growing to love that mysterious man. His mind brought him back to Jamie holding up the two thumbs and looking at Hank with eyes in a desperate sort of way. Hank would do whatever he had to to get Charlie back.
"Alright cheesecake, but let's make it snappy." Hank beckoned Jamie closer who looked dumbfounded at his good fortune.
"A handy will do just fine!" said Jamie loudly, dropping his britches to reveal the bluest pair of balls that Hank had ever seen in his entire life. The balls themselves must have weighed at least 20 stones each, with darkly purple veins popping forth from every since inch of skin, the scrotum looking as though it was ready to burst.
Hank reluctantly drew his hand around Jamie's already brick hard butterbean. Almost instantly, a geyser of initial brown cum flowed forth from Jamie's scepter before transitioning into pure, untainted white. Jamie let out an enduring 'AHHHHHHHH' while the cum geyser ramped itself up to 20, 40, 100 gallons of cum a minute! Hank quickly realized that this small cabin wouldn't be able to support this much weight and liquid at this rate.
Bellowing over the crashing waves of baby juice, Hank turned his head upward to Jamie. "JAMIE! WE NEED SOMETHING TO STOP THE FLOOOWWW!" Jamie shook his head confusedly before relapsing into blissful joy. Hank looked around desperately for something to stop this power. His eyes snapped from the toilet paper, to the plunger, and finally to Jamie's lone turd resting in the bottom of the toilet. Hank sighed. They don't pay me enough for this job. He reached down with his free hand, pulling the slippery fecal matter from the toilet. With a roar of determination, Jamie jammed it right into Jamie's 3 inch wide urethra. The flow instantly halted. Hank stood up and waded to the now waist deep cum pool Jamie had created.
"Don't mention this to anyone." Hank said shortly, leaving Jamie in mid gasp as he slammed the door shut.
Chapter 8: Neil
A mere twenty minutes later, the plane touched down in the North Korean Capital of Pyongyang, with hollers and whistles from the city's residents as Jamie directed the massive Boeing into a rolling crash. The team stepped out with a mix of pride and confusion, not knowing how to react to this unexpected welcome. Hank led the way down the ramp and into a child pulled cart. Jamie held his hand, stopping the cart and beckoning the rest of the team forward.
"Don't worry," Jamie spoke with glowing pride, "I speak Korean!" after everyone had seated themselves comfortably on the freshly sewn leather seats, Jamie leaned his head to the front to announce where they were headed to the driver. "Pouvez-vous transporter-nous a la destination de 'Ching-Sooey'?" The driver gave a simple nod of understanding, and they were off!
Hank took in the amazing sights around him. There were rolling mountains, colourful vendors, grim people, decrepit buildings, nuclear weaponry. Hank could tell this was one patriotic country.
Soon, very soon, the foursome was brought to a house on a cliff, with white crashing waves beating upon the cliffside below them. Jamie paid the child seven small peanuts and bid him on his way. Hydraulic, as this was his mother's house, regally led the way inside, clearly proud at having heritage in one of the world's most successful nations. He ruffled his nose and held his arms to the side, welcoming everyone to his childhood home. The team crossed the threshold as one, and looked around the simple cottage. Pure, white, freshly cut marble adorned many of the golden pillars which supported a diamond encrusted roof. Rubies the size of Jamie's balls before Hank had helped him out made up the centers of the door handles while great glowing sapphire lightbulbs cast a blueish din to the entrance hall. There was a bustling sound, prompting the group to turn towards a magnificent set of stairs. Descending down the stairs was none other than Hydraulic's mother, Neil.
Neil was interesting to say the least. Through her body, wrapped in a sparkling red dress, was attractive as any woman Hank had ever laid eyes upon, Hank couldn't help but stare at this woman's face. It was beautiful, with a hint of shameful melancholy brushing over her slightly plastic features. Her eyes swivelled in every direction of where the group stood. Hydraulic gave a leaping cry of surprise and jumped right onto the stairs into his mother's arms. Neil cooed and quieted the whining Hydraulic, beginning to breastfeed the poor man. Hank could sympathize; after all, it had been a rather long journey, and men did need their milky-milk.
Hank cleared his throat, initiating conversation. "Excuse me, uh, Mrs-"
"It's Ms, if you don't mind, deary," cut in Neil with a glint to her sludge-brown eyes, "I haven't been called Mrs in years." She trailed off with a mirthless chuckle of some sort of inside joke that only she understood.
"Well, uh Ms Neil, we'd like to take this moment to thank you for inviting us into your hospitality. You, as much as any of us here, are helping Earth from liberation right as we speak." Hank nodded stoically and stood soldier formation, waiting for Neil's response. Neil pandered answering a few moments as she tucked her titty back into her dress, milk dripping from Hydraulic's face.
"I understand that you all must be quite hungry. You all can get outside and get to know the area, and I can prepare a meal!"
Hank smiled widely. Hydraulic had it good here.
"That sounds fucking stupendous, Mrs Breen." Hank immediately realized that he had made a terrible mistake. Neil pursed her lips and rolled her eyes into the back of her head, letting out a monstrous, high pitched screech. She rolled headfirst down the stairs, losing a limb with every floor-shaking impact. At long last, she reached the bottom stair in a pile of dust, leaving nothing but the red dress behind. As well as-
"A note!" proclaimed Jamie, stepping forward and pulling a ruffled piece of paper out of the ashes. Hank stepped forward and, for the second time in twelve hours, began to read its contents.
So you have found the second clue, I bid well to you all,
It's not every day someone catches on without free-fall,
So for you, Hank Shraeder, and the rest of the group,
I leave you this next clue, so you won't need to stoop,
Seek out my clever assailant, he's being held against his will,
In the capital of the Big K, he has a history of kill,
He's kept out of sight, he's nowhere to be seen,
So fair warning, my friends, when you learn of the Geen.
Chapter 9: Pyongyang
Hydraulic let forth a terrible scream of lust and pain. He dropped to his knees and clawed at the ashes that once made up his mother's corpse. Hank had no words. As far as he was concerned, Neil had been a dirty sleeper agent, and had gotten what was coming to her. He awkwardly bent down to pat Hydraulic on the back, but Hydraulic was having none of it. He twitched out of the way and snarled viscously at Hank, throwing his body over his mother's remains.
"You stay away!" bellowed Hydraulic at Hank and Jamie, who stood speechless. Tears of fresh emotion began to fall unceremoniously from Hydraulic's face. Hank moved forward but Hydraulic took a bite at him, his sharpened molars missing Hanks outstretched fingers by inches.
"Hydraulic, look I-" began Hank, but was cut off.
"It's STEVE, you hear? Or more specifically, NEIL JR!" Hydraulic relapsed into fresh tears and hid his head from the remaining two members who found that words had run dry. "Go. I don't want any more to do with this plan. It's brought nothing but heartache and pain."
Hank began to answer but Hydraulic prepared his serpent for attack, poised in it's slapping formation. Hank raised his hands defensively and backed off, understanding that they had reached the end.
"Be safe out there, Steve." Hank bowed his head and put his arm around Jamie's shoulder, guiding themselves out of the door. Jamie himself had now begun to fall into emotional sobs, wettening Hank's broad shoulder with every heave.
"There there...we'll finish the job. We'll find Geen…"
They stepped out into the darkening streets, not knowing where to turn. As the letter said that the capital, Pyongyang, was the holding place of this so called 'Geen', Hank decided that was the best bet. He produced a golden telephone from within the folds of his jacket and dialed the local Korean Uber number quickly. After the order had been placed, a cab pulled a man appeared in record time, waiting for bring them forth. Again, Jamie rose to the occasion of speaking and translating.
"Nous devons arriver à Pyongyang dans moins que sept minutes. Est-ce que c'est possible?" The man nodded, pulling his fedora tighter against the fierce winds that had begun to scour the landscape. They were on their way again, going faster than ever before towards the glowing set of lights that was Pyongyang city. They arrived just short of 3 minutes. Jamie thanked the man with a quick handy and a peck on the cheek, and the duo found themselves lost in a big big world.
"I suppose we'd better ask around about this man," said Hank grimly, "If he really is here in the capital." Hank and Jamie violently pushed their way through the crowd of starving beggars in the streets, coming to the local pub in the entertainment district. They stepped inside graciously, taking in their environment with a critical eye.
The patrons were of a great variety, some Korean, some African, some even American, thanks to Hank's patriot-sense. Hank decided that the local bartender would know the most, if anything, on this Geen. Stepping up to the counter with a glint in his eye, Hank rapped his knuckles on the counter and was received with a smoking glass of firewhisky. Not many people could work that magic.
"Say, you there," said Hank to the bartender, "I have a question for you." There was something vaguely familiar about the man as he turned to face Hank. The bartender wore a dark brown fedora, covering nearly all of his face in shadow.
"What might that be, stranger?" The man poured himself a sparkling glass of soma and sat down next to Hank.
"I'm looking for someone, you see. He's not from here but he's being reportedly held here against his will. I was hoping you might be able to tell me about...The Geen." Hank finished his proclamation with a bead of sweat running down his brow. He wasn't sure how dangerous this Geen was, and if bringing attention to him would bring more trouble than he could handle.
"That's interesting, truly," the man finished his glass in a single gulp and poured himself another. "What brings you looking for the Geen?" The man stood staring at Hank. It was then that Hank realized that he had been their taxi-driver, not ten minutes ago. He glanced back at the doorway where Jamie stood flirting with some of the African-American guests. Hank decided to keep it on the down-low.
"Well...it's confidential. I'm afraid I'll have to leave it there." Hank kept eye contact with the man steadily. The bartender looked back and barked a few words of an unknown language to his assistant behind the counter, with a dark complexion to his face. The boy, no older than 18, nodded and unlocked a secret cabinet behind the wine rack. The bartender beckoned Hank forward.
"In here." the man said, holding out a hand for Hank to take as he led him down. Just as Hank stepped inside the small room, he came to a chilling realization. The language the man had spoken to the boy now unlocking a chest...that language was Sanskrit. And if the rumours were true, not many knew how to speak that tongue around here. Before Hank could say another word, the the boy read words off an old scroll. Hank immediately fell onto his knees before lapsing into deep unconsciousness.
Chapter 10: Geen
Hank found himself slowly and drowsily waking from a seemingly deep and long sleep. He yawned viciously before he realized again what had just happened. His pulse increased dramatically and he looked wildly along the seemingly barren hidden room in the bar that he and Jamie were looking for the Geen in. However, it was found empty, not a soul in sight. Only a solitary spotlight adorned the imposing room that Hank found himself strapped to a chair in.
"Alright Geen! I know that was you," barked Hank with every bit of intimidation he could muster, "And I'm warning you. Any funny moves, and my partner will be on your ass so fast you-" Hank stopped dead, for he felt a chill run down his spine. There was someone else in this room.
A harsh clapping brought Hank out of his stupor. A slithery figure was born into the light. The dark brown fedora shrouded the mysterious man's face with darkness.
"You're my guest, Mr Schraeder," spoke the Geen in a long drawl, pulling on every word. "It seems that this turn of events is more than coincidence, don't you think?" Geen flashed Hank a terrible smile before inching closer towards the tied man.
Hank suddenly realized that Jamie was nowhere to be found in the room.
"Where's Jamie?!" demanded Hank with passion.
Geen looked at him for a good five minutes before replying "You mean the murderer, traitor and thief you call a friend? You'll be relieved to hear I have no idea." Geen scrutinized Hank's face even more intensely. "You still want to kill me."
"That's what happens when you're hunted by a creature in a fedora!" Hank yelled back, struggling against his restraints.
Slowly, the Geen removed the fedora covering his face in shadow. Pale, parched skin complimented the sharp features of the man that Hank had learned to call Geen. He wore a set of classy eyeglasses while a second, stylish pair of sunglasses graced his forehead. A crisp, nearly grey beard covered his chin, and his eyes spoke of wicked delight.
"Tell me about Jamie."
Hank grimaced in defiance. "He's a heavily autistic man with severe depression and-"
"He poses a threat to myself and my religious studies career, and he's carrying evidence against me now. And somehow, you convinced him to trust you. You, a patriot." The Geen leaned closer to Hank, filling the void between them. "You know I can take whatever I want."
Geen raised an arm up high to hover above Hank's sweating face. Hank immediately began to hear voices ringing within his head. Was that Vishnu, or Krishna? Weren't they one in the same? The Five K's rang ferociously in Hank's mind, while all of the Buddha's Sutras played Hank's fears like a tether ball.
"I'm not telling you anything!" Hank gasped. But it was no use. The Geen had the upper hand.
"I see it...I see Jamie...where's he hiding, Hank? You know that there can only be one true religion teacher." said the Geen with further determination, delving deeper into Hank's mind. He moved closer, and if Hank wasn't tied like a goat, he would have throttled Geen here and now. "You think Jamie would have been a great lover!"
"Get out of my head!" yelled Hank from the pain and loyalty he had to Jamie.
Stronger and stronger Hank fought for control over his own mind. He knew that only a few seconds more and Geen would have what he wanted. He bit his lip ferociously. Slowly, he struggled against the mental prowess of the Geen. Maybe, if he could beat him, the Geen would help them.
Hank thought of Charlie, of Jamie, and even of Hydraulic. How much they'd been through. How much more they still had to go. His emotions burst forth, and he looked back at Geen dead in the eye, still struggling against his religious magic, but with more confidence.
"You….you're afraid…" Hank gasped. The Geen's eyes frowned before turning into anger. "That you will never been as religiously knowledgeable as Jamie Clarke!"
The Geen suddenly broke the connection to Hank in his chair. Hank felt himself relax, looking at the Geen with pity. The Geen began to weep, moving out of the light, and into darkness.
Hank let out a whoop of joy, flexing his buttcheeks to disintigrate the chair in which he was bound. He moved directly into the pool of light in the center of the room. Slowly, but surely, he began to undress what little garments he had on. First came off the shirt. Then his dirty, grimy jeans. Finally, his Captain America underwear was thrown to the side.
"Geen...I know we've had our differences. But now, we need to more than ever. There is a threat that is imminent to Earth, and if we don't act now, all that will be lost. I pledge my body in exchange for your aid, and trust." With that being said, Hank turned 180 degrees and spun himself down on the cold stone floor, spreading himself for what he was sure to be the Geen's water serpents.
For a few moments, nothing happened. The slowly, but certainly, a dank slithering could be heard from Hank's navel. He cocked his head to the side just to see a slimy, green object move towards him at lightning speed in his peripheral vision. Hank closed his eyes, taking every single slimy shaft of the Geen. Chunky, yellow soma juice burst from the snake's gullet, covering Hank's furry back in a blanket of love. It slithered back into the darkness where Hank was sure the Geen was waiting, thinking and, ideally, smiling. Hank couldn't help but smile himself. As far as he was concerned, he had won the war for today, and if Geen refused his offer, well...Hank would have a few words to say about that.
Chapter 11: Their Time of Need
Geen walked slowly towards Hank in the light, looking down upon the floor, shameful for what had just transpired. The moment he made eye contact with the bright-eyed ASAC Hank Shraeder, he let everything loose. Sobs upon sobs of the deepest and darkest pain bore down upon them both as they looked to the heavens for some sort of answers. After some time had passed, both men stood stock still, sizing each other up, ready for another round.
"You know more about these alien fuckers than myself. Tell me, Geen, and we can move on from this little escapade." Hank held out a pudgy hand. Slowly, but surely, Geen took Hank's palm in his own and gave it an Earth-wrenching shake. Hank smiled victoriously and gave a little chuckle. It was time to get back to work.
"Come with me, youngster," said the Geen, beckoning Hank forward, "and I'll tell you all that I know." Geen led Hank deeper into the room where Geen's assistant, named Hussein, slept soundly. Geen pulled up one of his prized laptop computers and brought up a video.
"These aliens...they're not from around here." Geen said knowingly. Hank was amazed at how much information Geen actually had. He nodded his head, giving Geen his utmost attention. "Their most stable form," he flicked a switch, and a photo of a green-skinned being with antennas sucking the cock of Charlie Sheen appeared, "are these generic alien forms. But in reality, they take the form of this." he flicked another switch, and the photo switched to a pulsing, black blob of alien material.
This revelation was too much for Hank. He excused himself to take a shit, and returned two days later with a copy of Sam Raimi's "Spider-Man 3" clutched in his shaking grasp. He held it up to Geen, who looked Hank dead in the eye knowingly, nodding his confirmation. The two men stood with their heads bowed, now only coming to realize what they were truly up against.
Chapter 12: To Find a Friend
With Hank's knowledge about these alien invaders finally complete, he knew that he had to reunite the team.
"Geen, I need you to stay here. I need to find my friends and bring us all together," he spat on the ground viscously, "God knows we need the team now." Just as he was about to leave, Geen spoke from his armchair.
"Hank, wait...I know where your friends are…" Geen looked down in more shame and began to weep tears. "I wasn't proud of it, but...it had to be done."
Hank stopped dead in his tracks and looked cautiously at the Geen. Something wasn't quite right.
"What are you saying, Geeny?" asked Hank slowly, his hands moving slowly to his pocketed pepper-spray.
Geen looked up with tears burning in his eyes. Then, even more slowly, he reached at his face just below the chin, and pulled up.
Hank tried to scream, but no sound came out.
Where there was once Geen's face, there was now the most repulsive assemblage of human features that Hank had ever seen. Dull, sludge brown eyes poked out of small eye holes. An upturned nose taunted Hank, while brown, dirty stubble graced a chin that Hank had only seen in pictures. And the forehead...no human forehead should ever look like that. It was full of sweat, blood, and more horribly, a second piece of yet to be hardened man-meat. It was the Jeep.
"Greetings, Mistro!" spoke the Jeep in a thundering proclamation.
Hank was simply dumbfounded. His whole world crashed around him. He was caught at every turn.
"I suppose you must be wondering what happened to your little 'Genevieve' Geen? Well, he has been...dealt with." The Jeep said with a grin. As he said this, a snap of his fingers popped open a closet to Hank's left where the naked and cold corpse of the Geen tumbled unceremoniously out of the closet. A hole through Geen's chin and out of the top of his head showed a clear suicide. "I had the little brat pop himself over! How, you may ask? Well...HUSSEIN!"
The boy called Hussein was awoken as suddenly as the Jeep has spoken his name. Hussein walked zombie-like forward towards Hank, stopping a mere 2 mm away from Hank's nose. In a meaningful motion, Hussein crouched down as the gooey-black alien substance burst forth from Hussein's long-dead body. The black tendrils wrapped themselves around Hank's every limb, creeping deep inside his pants and asshole.
"Now now, little Hanky...I think it's time for truth and dare! I'll go first...truth!" The Jeep gave a little squeal and sat attentively before Hank.
"The truth is…" gasped Hank, "...I'm gonna pound your little ass when this is all done!" Hank struggled even harder against the tightening black ropes of alien, but it was no use.
"OOO! What a fiesty one!" The Jeep clapped his hands and danced around gayly. "Now, my turn! The truth is…" The Jeep bent towards Hank in a conspiratorial whisper. "This black cum substance is already loosed inside all the little weak green aliens. And on my collective command...they will be released to the world!" Jeep sighed greatly and let himself fall onto the floor, looking dreamily to the sky. "Ever since I was a boy, I dreamed about running a worldwide show...and here I am!" Jeep cackled before looking seriously at Hank. "It really is time to kill you now."
Hank was a goner. There was nothing else he could do. But. Wait. Hank noticed the outline of what looked like a person in the closet where the Geen's corpse had fallen out of. Squinting his eyes, he recognized that outline. It was Charlie. Bound, gagged, unconscious, and helpless.
Hank felt a rage build inside of him, more vicious than ever before. Slowly, he looked up at Jeep.
"Charlie and I...we're gonna have a hell of a time!" Jeep raised a hand to bitch slap Hank. But Hank feared no more.
Hank flexed his muscles to their breaking point. He felt the tear of the alien substance beneath his arms. He screamed louder than ever before. His screaming...they seemed to have an effect on this substance. The goo shriveled and became weaker under the influence of his vocal waves. Louder he screamed, and harder he tore, until finally, he threw his arms free. Hank scrambled triumphantly, narrowly dodging a slap from Jeep. Throwing himself into a forward roll, he took a fistfull of the black goo and wrapped it tightly around Jeep's neck. Harder and harder he pulled. The Jeep flailed his arms, but it was no use. At long last, Hank heard a shuddering gasp as both the Jeep and the goo from Hussein expired.
Hank let out a thankful sigh and immediately hurried over towards the closet. There he found not only Charlie, but Jamie and Hydraulic too! Oh joy! He sliced open their retrainted and carried them fireman style out of the hidden basement, out into sunlight, and out into war.
Chapter 13: Game-Plan, Part III
"Charlie! Hydraulic! Jamie! HELP ME!" Hank shook each and every one of his unconcious teammates forward, but it was no use. Outside on the cold stone Pyongyang square, passerbys looked curiously at the display going on, but Hank cared not. Finally, after administering a more than intimate dose of mouth-to-mouth, Charlie, Jamie, and Hydraulic all woke up in a fit of coughs and gasps, looking around wildly.
"Hank!"
"Where are we?"
"Dios Mios!"
"My moms gonna kill me!"
"Everyone, everyone! I'm here." Hank looked lovingly at his newly reunited group. They were back.
"Hank...Jesus, I don't know how to say-" began Hydraulic, but Hank put a finger over his lips.
"I'm sorry too." said Hank shortly, looking Hydraulic dead in the eye.
Next, Hank moved onto Jamie. He gave an Earth-crushing bear hug, feeling Jamie's hardened French-baguette underneath his colourful pants. This man was quite the horndog.
And at long last, Hank looked Charlie Ocean Goldblum dead in the eye, for Hank now knew who Charlie truly was, after sneaking a peek on the Jeep's records. The two men shared unspoken words before sinking into a long awaited makeout sesh, right in the middle of Pyongyang's streets. Unfortunately, under North Korean law, homosexuality is violently frowned upon, so they had to flee police fire until they found a derelict graveyard to continue. An hour after the couple had finished, they returned to one group.
"Guys, listen, I don't know how deep this alien disease has spread, but I know what their true form is and, better yet, I know how to defeat them!" Hank filled everyone in quick.
"We were gonna tell you that too," said Hydraulic, "we saw records on the Jeep's computer."
"That was one feisty man!" said Jamie with a belch.
"But now, we know how to defeat them," said Charlie determindley, wiping leftover cum from his mouth. "But there's something else Hank...the aliens have spread to the whole globe now. In less than 10 minutes they will be released from their human hosts, with their sole purpose on finding us."
Hank swore violently and kicked over the nearby gravestone of Kim-Jong-Il. He screamed into the heavens, willing for help. But none came. He took a deep breath and rallied at once. He wasn't going down without a fight.
"Well...here's what we're going to do. Charlie," he looked at Charlie, "you're going to take control of the nearby radio towers and increase the decibels as high as they can go. That'll hold them off for a bit. Hydraulic," he looked at Hydraulic, "you're gonna have to help wedge open the doors to the radio station. They're sure to be guarded. And Jamie" he looked at Jamie, "you're going to help me fight off these fuckers best we can." He clapped his hands once, waiting for any objections. The group looked stunned at the prospect of such a daring task. "Listen...I know that this is seeming impossible...but this is what we must do. This is what your leaders sent you here for. This is what we're meant to do. To fight the battles no one else could." He held out his hands, tears of pride building in his beady eyes. "And I can't be any more proud to stand along such fine men such as yourselves. It's been an honour." He gave a formal soldier salute and dismissed everyone, all of whom had dissolved into tears.
Hank stepped outside into the middle of the street, surrounded by ignorant citizens. He looked to his left, where Hydraulic was forcing open the door to the radio station for Charlie. Less than a minute to go until the transformation. Until then…
"Hey, KONICHIWA!" he yelled to the group, drawing their attention away from Charlie and Hydraulic. Pedestrians stopped and started confusedly at Hank, with Jamie at his side, dressed fully in ceremonial Kempo-Karate robes.
Suddenly, the citizens of North Korea began to shudder. They shook violently until the worst happened. Gooey, black substance began to seep out of their corpses, taking various indistinguishable forms. And all headed for Hank.
Hank narrowed his eyes, fists raised. It was time.
Chapter 14: End-All
The first punch Hank threw brought him back 20 years. His fist made contact with one alien fucker headed straight towards him, the blow sending him crashing into a wall across the street, creating an explosion of dust and rubble. Another uppercut sent one flying into the air and landing with a boom near a statue of Kim-Jong-Un. Jamie was faring well, his unmatched karate skills working fluidly against the increasing flow of substance seeping towards them. For every strike of an alien, Jamie was there to counter with two counter-attacks.
Meanwhile, in the tower, Hank could see Charlie working furiously at the controls of the radio while Hydraulic held the door barred shut with his Shlong. Hank knew that it was only a matter of time until they noticed Charlie, so he worked with all his might.
Hank let loose a dozen punches in every direction, knocking back countless aliens into oblivion. But for every punch Hank threw, two more creatures would fill the last one's place. Hank was by no means a weak man, but even he knew that he could not keep this going forever.
Jamie, though a 9th degree black belt, was starting to slow as well. He looked desperately at Hank, then at the radio tower where Charlie still fiddled desperately with the controls.
It shouldn't be long now, thought Hank with hope. Punch after punch sent creatures flying back, but Hank felt his muscles starting to ache.
Finally, as Hank let loose a terribly explosive side-cut, the world exploded around them. Wham's Careless Whisper broke loose from the radio tower, seemingly freezing time as Charlie cheered. Hydraulic clapped victoriously as well. The aliens were being held back by the sheer force of the soundwaves, giving Hank time to rip the heads off of many in his path. They were golden!
Just as suddenly as the relief had come, Hank saw something that made his heart drop. A lone alien, climbing it's way slowly but surely up the wall of the radio tower, poised for a strike at Charlie who was distracted by his own temporary victory. Hank tried to yell out, but it was no use over the crashing music waves. The alien let loose a tendril of substance, and Hank saw Charlie fall from the radio tower into the hard rubble below. That same alien then suicide attacked the radio tower with a single strike, halting all of the soundwaves in a single moment.
Hank looked around with his head dejectedly pointed towards the ground, aware of the approaching goo. He looked to his left and saw Jamie kneeling, clutching a bleeding patch on his left side, eyes squinted in pain. Hank could only watch as two of the surrounding creatures took him and Jamie by the shoulders into a crude standing position. Thicc tendrils wrapped around both of their necks, and Hank began to lose sight of the world. If only he could tell the group how much they truly meant to him, before the end. Before the end-all. Maybe they weren't such a great team after all. Hank held his head down, waiting for the worst.
But as Hank looked down, he saw something peculiar. Though the music had stopped, small pieces of rubble were vibrating on the ground. Softly at first, they increased in tempo as something unseen was happening. Jamie looked as confused as Hank before looking up to the skies and seeing something Hank did not. An Earth-crashing THUD broke the grasp of the alien's tendrils around Hank's neck as he straightened himself up and looked at the newcomer. He couldn't believe his own eyes as he heard a voice. No. THE voice.
"AAAYYYOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"
Brian May, Roger Taylor, John Deacon, and Freddie Titflapping Mercury had come to save the day.
Freddie let out another iconic "AAAYYYOOOOOOOOO!" immediately disintigrating 50 aliens to dust. He grabbed five of the creatures in one hand and squeezed until they had become as fluid and useless as jelly. He spread their remained onto toast, handing the tasty snack to John who ate graciously. Freddie stood with his hands on his hips in front of his bandmates, ready for the show.
"You know what to do, darlings!" On his command, the band took out their respective instruments and began the riff to Dragon Attack, their soundwaves pouring endlessly over the aliens.
"TAKE ME TO THE COCK WHERE THE VEINS ALL RED, TAKE ME OUTTA MY ASS, THAT'S WHAT I SAID!"
The creatures were useless. One by one they blew up into dust, leaving nothing but a splash of black cum in their wake. Freddie cackled victoriously, inserting himself into each of the band members in turn from pure joy. He knew what he had done this day. Freddie was truly a God.
Chapter 15: Mending the Wounds
Hank sat in disbelief. The man called Freddie Mercury and Co. had just ravaged the entire army of alien goo. Just like that. Without throwing so much as a punch in the air. Hank quickly realized that this was a God not to be trifled with.
"Sir, um, Mr-" began Hank, but was cut short by the gorgeously moustached man striding towards Hank, decked out in a bright yellow jacket, red striped white jogger pants, and pure white adidas superstars.
"Call me Freddie, love." said the Fredster, blowing a kiss to Hank's way. Hank couldn't handle the tension any longer. He stripped off his war-torn clothes in a single swipe and presented his firm and battered ass to the pantheon of Queen, awaiting trial. Silence endured before the tall quivering man named Brian spoke up.
"Why don't we take him on tour with us? He seems more than capable of taking care of himself."
The rest of the group nodded and muttered their approval. Hank smiled so wide he burst many blood vessels in his face. He then turned and licked the tip of each of the member's pricks as a sign of gratitude. They hissed with their thanks and then began on Jamie.
"My my, this one has a lot of spirit!" said the elfish man John Deacon, twirling his nearly 8 inch fingers seductively.
"That's right, let's see what Freddie thinks!" burst out the man called Roger Taylor, his eyes fixed unblinkingly on Freddie's glorious splendour.
"Well, I suppose he must be rewarded…" said Freddie, trailing off playfully whilst twirling his butterfly milk moustache. He laughed the laugh of a thousand men and formed a pure golden dildo from thin air, presenting it on a silver platter to the now trembling Jamie. Jamie was speechless. As far as anyone was concerned, Jamie had never been awarded anything in his entire life, save the disdain and ridicule from his fellow teachers at UCC.
"Now, I've gotta ask, Freddie," said Hank, regaining his usual patriotic composure, "someone must have summoned you guys. Now who was it?"
Freddie opened his mouth, but another, more distinct voice answered from behind the group.
"That was meee."
A short, pudgy, stubby man, with heavily slanted eyes, stepped out from behind a golden statue. There was no doubt it was-
"Kim Jong Un!" said everyone as one. The man smiled widely and shook hands with the Mercury, who seemed to be lifelong friends. .
"Kimmy!" Freddie boomed. They locked themselves in an embrace for over two hours before
breaking apart and regarding the rest of the onlookers.
"Herroo." said Kim, holding a pudgy hand for everyone to shake. Everyone shook and an awkward silence permeated the air. Just then, a distant scuffling was heard near the radio tower. Hank's heart dropped when he remembered how Charlie had fallen into the rubble.
"Everyone follow me!" Hank boomed as he rushed towards the still smoking debris. He rummaged through until he found a hand, then a penis. Then the whole body of Charlie came forth as Hank hugged him in a tight embrace. However…
"He's got no pulse!" Hank began to weep, falling into Freddie's strong arms. Kim turned pale white and began to recite the rosary, while Brian, John, Roger and Jamie began to furiously fuck in the hopes of exciting Charlie back to life. But no such luck.
"Hold on darlings," announced Freddie, "I've got something up my yellow sleeve." He jerked his schnitzel once before a golden drop of cummies flew forth and fell into Charlie's limp open mouth.
"He'll wake up in twelve hours time. Those golden cummies of mine, they'll erase his memory completely. We can set him up back at home in Chatham." Freddie nestled everyone into his arms and sang a lullaby, putting everyone into a deep sleep.
It truly was a good day to be the ASAC, Thought Hank as he drifted off into dreams of green fields and American Flags.
Epilogue
UCC was dimly lit. The Christmas holidays were about, and no one drifted through the halls. No students, teachers, or janitors of any kind. Well, save one.
The thick footsteps crunched slowly down the main hall towards the primary office. He was pleased. So very pleased with the way things had turned out, that he thought he might treat himself to a brandy. Brandy was his favourite beverage, and he had been such a good boy, he deserved it today.
He sliced the bottle open with one hand, chugging it viciously. A large belch broke the harrowing silence of the derelict school, echoing endlessly through the halls.
"The Jeep never cries, the Jeep never dies…" the man muttered to himself as he twirled the bottled with one hand. He let it fall to the floor, smashing into millions of pieces. He gazed curiously at the fragments. They reminded him about his own fragmented soul, twisted and warped by time itself. Well, not matter. The fools had bought into his plot, and now he was ready to unleash himself onto the world.
He turned to look at his own reflection in a dusty mirror. The face of Ray Power stared back. The Jeep smiled.
He was ready to face the world.